Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

Stirlingshire. ’Tis the keep of a mon who kens weel the ways of battle, offensive as weel as defensive. I had the honor of fighting alongside the mon many a time in our younger days. Lord Logan was a mercenary until he wed, gaining land as weel as a wife many men envy him for. That should have been enough but, men being the prideful fools that they are, he felt she needed a titled husband.” He grinned when Sine Catriona giggled. “So, he went out and gained his own title through the enviable skill of his sword. Sadly, he also gained many a new scar and lost a few toes, as weel as the sight in one eye. The injuries keep him from fighting anymore, but I believe he is little troubled by that. From what I have seen, he is more than content to stay here at Duncoille with his wife and bairns.”

      “Here comes your host,” drawled Farthing. “And with his brood in tow.”

      There ensued a confused round of greetings and introductions. Sine Catriona struggled to follow them. As she met her host, Lord William Logan, she barely noticed his battle scars or fearsome looks. It was his fine eyes and gentle smile that held her attention. She felt badly when Margot quaked before the man. The girl’s reaction clearly bothered him. She was unsettled a bit herself, however. His rich voice, auburn hair and grin reminded her strongly of Gamel. She was glad to escape to her chambers for a little while before the memories of her lover became too overwhelming.

      She was not surprised to find that no bath had been readied for her. She and Farthing had not been expected. She assured the fretting maid that she was well pleased with the full bowl of heated water she had been given. A thorough washing freshened Sine Catriona and restored her composure. After a last check of her appearance she sought the great hall, only to find Farthing already there, the children gathered around him. He sat on a bench facing away from the main table, showing the fascinated children how he could make coins appear and disappear.

      “Holding them enthralled with your meager talents?” she jibed as she sat by his side, then smiled her thanks at the page who hastily served her a tankard of mead.

      “Meager, is it, wench? And ye can do so much better, can ye?” he challenged.

      “I would ne’er shame ye so before such a large crowd,” she demurred, fighting a smile.

      “Oh ho.” William Logan laughed. “The apprentice challenges the teacher.”

      “Such ungratefulness is often her way, I fear,” Farthing replied with an excess of drama.

      Lord Magnusson laughed. “They often go at each other so, William.” For a moment he watched his son and Sine Catriona make coins disappear, only to retrieve them from ever more unusual spots upon one of the giggling children. “The lass is good, nearly as good as Farthing,” he murmured. “He told me she was, but I now see that ’twas not just polite flattery.”

      “Ye have but just met your son’s woman?”

      “Aye, William, except that she isnae his woman. I see that ye share the same surprise that I felt when he told me.”

      “She is verra fair to look upon.”

      “Verra, but he met her ere she was a woman grown. It takes only a moment of watching them to see the truth. They are bound to each other, but not as lovers. They are like close kin.”

      William studied the pair very carefully before nodding. “That must have eased your mind some, since he is now your heir.”

      “Aye, it did, yet had it been any other way, I could have accepted it. He is now my only child. I thank God more times than I can count for sparing him. The lass is comely and clever. Matters could have been smoothed out. That he might have wed some common wench seemed a pitiful concern when I thought on all I could have lost had he too been taken by the plague. God was verra kind to you during that black time.”

      “He was. That curse drew near, but its fatal touch ne’er reached us.”

      “Mayhaps that Devil’s concoction was afeared of such a clean place,” Lord Magnusson drawled, smiling faintly.

      “I ken that ye jest, m’friend, but many of us begin to wonder on just that. Even the lowest of our people work toward that cleanliness, for my wife keeps a watch on all around us. She ne’er raises a hand against any of them, but they struggle to please her. What vermin slip into Duncoille live a verra short life. Rats, lice, fleas—they all breed in dirt. Mayhaps that’s the same ground which breeds that Devil’s curse. The lack of such dirt is all that makes us different from many another keep. We suffer few other ailments as weel.”

      “’Tis something to consider. ’Twould explain how the plague can creep into even the most weel-guarded fortress. I sealed myself and mine away, let none in from the time word of it first reached us, yet it still came.” He smiled toward his son. “I believe Farthing but outran the death that crept over this land. Since he left my keep years ago, he has settled nowhere.”

      “Howbeit, he will settle with ye now?”

      “Aye, I hope so. And soon I may have Margot settled….”

      “She is a fair lass and pleasant-spoken.”

      “There is a hesitation in your voice, William.”

      William grimaced faintly. “I wish I could have sent word, but there was not time for it. ’Twas but hours ago that I discovered that the match we had hoped for can never be. The lass…”

      “Will suffer no great sorrow over it.” Lord Magnusson sighed. “She came here just to please me. May I ask what objection your son has to the match?”

      “Well, he had none until he returned from a fair. ’Twas held in Dunkennley, a town but a few days’ ride from here. When he returned I noticed a darkness in him, a melancholy, but I didnae press for a reason until this morning. His mood wasnae the right one to greet guests with and I had hoped to lighten it.”

      “Ah, but ye couldnae,” Lord Magnusson murmured. “’Twas a sickness of the heart.”

      “Exactly so. He has seen what a blessing God granted me in Edina and sought the same for himself.”

      “As any mon with good sense would do.”

      “Thank ye. He believes he has found that for himself, but the girl slipped away from him.”

      “And he didnae give chase?”

      “He had promised me that he would return to meet ye and Margot. I believe he hoped it would prove to be naught but a strong lusting, a heat in his loins that had robbed him of all sense for a wee while. He now sees that that isnae the way of it.”

      “Weel, then he should be on his way after her.”

      “Mayhaps, yet I feel it can do him little harm to hold back for a bit. It has been only a few days since he first beheld this lass. Time could weel ease her grip upon him.”

      “Verra true. I hope it does—for his sake. A sickness of the heart is a curse. The young feel it all the more keenly than we older folk. The years have slowly taught us to accept the will of God and the fates. The young cannae always see when ’tis time to bow to them.”

      Gamel strode into his stepmother’s bedchamber, smiling as he watched her check her appearance in a mirror. “Ye look lovely, Mother. No more needs to be done.”

      “The first meeting is always the hardest for me. Once that ordeal is over, I no longer feel such a need for perfection. That will be all, Mary, thank ye.” As the maid left, Edina turned her full attention to Gamel. Her welcoming smile faltered as she studied him very closely.

      After enduring her intent study for a moment, Gamel jested, “Have I grown a new eye?”

      Her chuckle was brief and faint. “I had thought that your melancholy had eased, but I now see that your smiles float on the surface of darker things.”

      “I willnae carry my gloom before your guests.”

      “That isnae what troubles me. I have ne’er seen ye suffer so dark a humor. Does our attempt to find